To Pendragon With Love
by Mikael-Macbeth
Summary: XXX ONE-SHOT sequel to "Dear Pendragon"; Saint Dane X Bobby Pendragon; Slight language and minor adult themes XXX If only he had never written me that stupid letter. Then we would hate each other, and it would be the way everyone else wanted it to be.


_Disclaimer: Ownership? Hah, yeah right._

**AN: Okay, so it's been a while since I wrote the first story, Dear Pendragon, and I promised a lot of you a sequel. And, to be honest, it could have been a whole Hell of a lot better. I wanted to get it out before the next book, and I just haven't been having the right inspiration, but I bit the bullet and typed this up. I'm still proud of it, but it could undoubtedly be better. So, before you read, know that you should know the events of the eighth book, Pilgrims of Raine, because this takes place shortly afterward and incorporates stuff from my first little one-shot. So please, read both of those things before continuing unless you don't mind being spoiled or confused with a few of the plot-points. In addition, just in case, this is Saint Dane/Bobby romance. Yes, I know, it IS odd, but that's why I wrote it--to be different. I've read worse T-rated fics. XD**

**Alrighty, time to get down to the best part. First of all, when I wrote Dear Pendragon, I was a pansy. I begged to not be pummelled by boulders. I got a few flames, and I felt like total crap. Now, I honestly don't care if you flame or whatever. Really, go on. Just know that 1. This is all in good fun, and though it is written seriously, you have to remember _it's just a fanfiction_ and 2. You WILL receive a long review reply about what an idiot you are. Flames are not appreciated here, and I much prefer some _constructive_ criticism. If you don't like what you read, you'd be better off just clicking that cute little "back" button and reading some good old-fashioned Brand-X Bobby/Courtney. However, if you're ready for something out of sorts, by all means, read on! I'm not as evil as I'm coming off right now; I'm actually pretty nice. C:**

**So, enough of this stupidly long author's note! Enjoy the story, dearies! :3**

**--**

_'Hey Mark…Hey Courtney._

_It's just me, good ole Bobby._

_Of course, I don't think I need much of an introduction, seeing as how I'm pretty much the only one who delivers the mail. I really am a dork._

_Things have been going extremely well in Ibara. People have managed to pull together amidst all the confusion and work to rebuild everything. I'm pretty sure the Dados, the skimmers, and all the other miscellaneous stuff that may have posed a threat to Ibara are now completely destroyed. Maybe a few are back at Rubic City, but nothing that Saint Dane sees as a worthy army to do his bidding._

_Speaking of Saint Dane, I haven't seen him in quite some time. I'm wondering if maybe he's—'_

I stopped writing and set my quill onto the desk.

This was the fourth time I had tried to write to Mark and Courtney back on Second Earth, and still, every time I began to write, I would go into complete and total brain-death. For the past several months (my estimate, of course), I had been desperate to get down on paper at least one scrap of evidence that I was still alive after the destruction of Ibara's flume.

But… I was scared.

What if Mark and Courtney no longer checked the mail? What if they no longer cared of my whereabouts? To be forgotten would be a fate worse than death.

And then came the Saint Dane problem.

To be honest, amidst the battles and hateful journal-writing, there was still that one time.

That… _one _time.

The thought lingered in me even more strongly with the knowledge that I may have been trapped forever in the same territory with that monster.

Worse—that monster I had come to adore.

Of course, that adoration never made its way into my journals. Seriously, what would my faithful, Saint Dane-despising acolytes think of me if they knew I had come to this? The very thought of being eternal shunned by the two most important people in the world made me cringe.

And so my dilemma.

I had come to be nearly incapable of writing anymore hate-mail about Saint Dane, and, of course, a letter to Mark and Courtney would mean conjuring up every hateful fiber in my body to do it.

And, well, I just didn't really feel like it.

For now, though, I crumpled up the paper and discarded it into the trash-receptacle-thing.

I needed fresh air—people, noises.

I decided to ditch the writing assignment and take a walk around the Tribunal Mountain to clear my head.

Ever since I had come to be trapped in Ibara, I found myself more and more trapped in my own thoughts. I thought about unexpected attacks by the Flighters, this upcoming "Convergence" thing and if it was really going to happen, and other such worries that I always carried around with me. Of course, my friends were at the top of the list, along with the location of my missing family. And being the supposed "leader" of the Travelers was perhaps one of the more annoying ulcer-inducing worries.

But the one thing that constantly nagged at me was the fact that Saint Dane had _lied_. That _one _time had delivered a Saint Dane that I had actually seen as human. However, this whole Ibara-fiasco had proved otherwise. He had lied about how important I was, lied about not caring for the territories and Halla and everything else, and maybe even lied about…

I sighed as I stood up roughly, scooting the chair back away from the desk, and exited the small, cramped living space.

The tunnels of the Tribunal Mountain were dimly lit, but were bright enough for easy navigation. I made my way out into the main chamber, where the tribunal council-members were being consulted on the thises-and-thats involved in the town's rebuilding. They all looked really stressed, but I could tell that they were genuinely pleased about the progress of the reconstruction.

Genj, the one male council-member, noticed my entrance into chamber and motioned for me to come over. I was a tribunal member, after all, and I had to pull my weight and participate in the decision-making, too. But instead of having to answer the billions of questions I was expecting to have to deal with as I made my way over the tribunal-table, Genj simply said, "Telleo wants to see you. She is in the medical hut. She said it was very urgent."

Sensing the importance of the tone of his voice, I bowed quickly to the three tribunal members and raced out the doorway without another word, down the flight of steps, and down the steep incline into the village.

I made it to the edge of the canopy before I stopped to catch my breath. I wondered then what could have been so urgent as to tinge Genj's voice with such a worrisome sound. News of Flighters? Someone in need of extreme medical attention? …Body I.D.ing…? I really hoped it was nothing as I commenced jogging across the white sun of the damaged (yet wonderfully refurbished) village toward the small medical hut. Really, it would be icky gross to have to associate with a corpse.

I entered cautiously to see that Telleo was sitting daintily on the bed, reading a pocket-sized book quietly. Her face was calm, and nothing was on fire, as far as I could see. Things weren't visibly hectic, but appearances, as I had learned over numerous past experiences, were _always_ deceiving.

"You… wanted to see me?" I asked hesitantly as I entered into Telleo's line of vision. I twisted my hands a little nervously.

"Ah, yes, Pendragon…" she said with little emotion or reflection, laying the book beside her. Her serene look creased into obvious worry as lines made their way into her features. As though she hadn't even been paying attention to it, she didn't even bother to mark her page.

Something weird was going on.

She looked extremely troubled, and worried, I asked her, a little more roughly this time, "What is it, Telleo?"

"I…" she faltered, bolting from her sitting position and running over to one of the many cabinets lining the walls of the hut, her hands fumbling through the contents as though she were searching desperately for the antidote to a poison. She set down the items she had retrieved on the table. A few of the jugs that she had taken down made soft clinking noises as she had failed to sit them upright on her first try.

There was no doubt that she was nervous.

For what, I just had to know.

"Telleo, _please_, just tell me what's wrong!" I insisted, really beginning to worry. I placed a hand on her shoulder, and she seemed to be shaking slightly. First, Genj tells me the situation's urgent, the next, Telleo's sitting there like it's nonexistent, and then third, I really had no clue what was going on at all. It sucks to be the last one informed of _everything_.

"I just… really wanted to make you some dinner," she answered, turning to me with a small smile on her face. It looked forced. "I thought that you might want some broth. You… have been working so hard, and you need to eat something good for you."

Well, this answer was completely out of left field. This definitely wasn't the life-or-death situation that I had been expecting. I was relieved, but suspicious.

I took a seat at one of the bamboo-like chairs, and I tried not to look too awfully leery as I asked, "Are you sure that's all?"

Telleo worked busily at mixing this and that from the different jars and didn't even bother to turn around to look at me when she said, "Yes, yes, Pendragon, that is really all. You don't need to worry yourself to death."

We stayed in silence for what seemed like an eternity before she finally finished the broth and called for me to taste-test it. Her voice seemed calm enough, and I decided I might've made her mad if I kept bothering her to tell me what was really going on.

For now, though, I decided to just shut up and sip the soup.

"Mm, this is pretty good!" I praised, grinning over to Telleo with a grin on my face. However, her expression was nothing but pleased.

"I… I am glad."

She didn't sound like it. I took another sip to ensure that she understood that I really did like it, but suddenly, I felt my stomach begin to dance. Not like one of those nice slow dances, but more like one done in a raver's den. I opened my mouth to speak, but found that my voice was incapable of working, besides a small squeak of "Telleo" before I collapsed onto the floor, my sight going into tunnel-vision.

Then that was it.

I was out.

--

"…But this was not what we had planned!"

A loud, sharp smack echoed throughout the room and a stifled cry came next.

"I am quite aware of that, _Nevva_, but this is my plan, and I shall do as I please with it!"

…Nevva…?!

At this point, my mind had begun to set to work to make me function again. I could tell I was in a reclining position against a wall. I struggled to stand up, but an unseen hand of weariness kept me down. I tried to open my eyes, but drowsiness kept them down as well. I was on the hairy edge of completely panicking when the voices continued.

"…I am sorry."

"It is not your fault. But I give you fair warning—do _not_ challenge my desires again.

Slowly, the synapses in my brain began firing off signals, and I really wished they would have just remained asleep like the rest of me.

I knew that voice—that terrible, _terrible_ voice.

_Saint Dane._

"Leave, Nevva. You are no longer needed."

I heard faint footsteps and an opening and successive slamming of a door.

Silence.

"…That girl. Much too haughty for her own good."

I felt the demon's presence as he drew closer—that same, icy drop in temperature each time he came near was completely unmistakable.

"…Ah, Pendragon… Were I only to have you, I would not have to put up with so foolish a creature as she," Saint Dane sighed.

It was then that a chilling, yet loving hand caressed the side of my cheek. Again, with this immobility-business, I was unable to bat it away.

"But it seems that we are opposed, you and I, and not destined to be as one. I shall have my Convergence, even at the cost of losing you…"

At this, I summoned up all the strength in my sluggish body to force my eyes open. The picture was nothing but a blur at first, but then the demon came into a sharp focus. He was kneeling over me, his scars pulsating red, looking all sorts of menacing. I managed to lock onto his ice-white eyes.

He stared at me, and his emotions were unreadable.

"I… thought that I was no longer important?" I demanded, my lips cracked and dry from lack of use.

Saint Dane remained unfazed, however, still allowing his hand to slide freely across my cheek. It only annoyed me, which was a shame. He was being so nice about the gesture, too.

"In my conquest, no. But you will always be important to _me_," he answered, his voice resonating hollow passion.

My body was still weighted with sleep, and even if I had wanted to, I had no strength to physically slap Saint Dane's hand away. So, for the time being, I would have to settle on destroying him with my words. I was feeling particularly vindictive after my nice little nap.

"And so you're willing to let me die, even though I actually matter to you? That makes no sense!" I barked, my voice hoarse.

"Ah, Pendragon, I truly am a victim of my own passions!" he seemed to sway a bit in woe, as though he were acting in a staged production of _Romeo and Juliet_. "I am torn, dear Pendragon. I do adore you, and yet, you see, I also have not forgotten my vow to rule over Halla. Really, it is a dilemma with which I do not want to deal."

There it was again—a promise of some kind to rule over everything. But that riddle would have to be solved later. Right now, I had bigger issues to deal with, like not being able to escape a demon who was possibly hungry for my flesh.

I examined my surroundings, looking for the best possible escape route. It appeared I was locked in a dungeon of some kind, judging from the terrible lighting and freezing draft. I was sitting on a stone floor, my back against a stone wall, facing three other stone walls. I was half expecting to see the rack _feng-shuied_ in one of the corners.

Classing medieval torture-chamber chic.

I decided to talk, to stall, so that I could get the feeling back into my limbs and get the Hell out of here. Saint Dane did like to hear himself talk, and I was positive that he would spill whatever beans I needed with the right provocation.

"So, what about Nevva? Do you… love her at all?" I asked, actually feeling a little bit… _jealous_ at the thought of Saint Dane _loving_ her. He was my _numero uno_ enemy, but I guess we still had a sot of "thing" going on between us.

Well, that was yet to be seen. I was maybe a little ticked off about possibly getting killed to serve his own selfish ends. A person who loved another person didn't have him eliminated like some sacrificial lamb.

"Nonsense! She is nothing but a nuisance to me. I can use her as long as I must in order to achieve my ultimate goal," he whispered, his fingers seemingly testing the skin of my cheek. It tickled, and it seemed to amuse him.

"…The Convergence?" I asked, certain that was undoubtedly his "ultimate goal."

"Yes," he hissed, "my clever Pendragon. But for now, it is not important. For now," a sigh escaped him as his other and equally cold hand reached up to cup my other cheek, "_you_ are all that matters."

I thought of escape again, but no; I had to get matters straight. It was bugging me, and when things bugged me, I either slapped it away or got bitten to death.

"So it's all a matter of this moment, right? What about later? Will I matter to you later, when you're killing me…?"

The sad thing was that I wanted this to last forever. I didn't want to be enemies on the big screen and lovers behind the scenes. It wasn't fair. And yet, was there really anything I could do? He couldn't change, nor could I.

He leaned in close, his lips nearly brushing against mine, and all of those old memories of our first true time together came rushing back to me; it was as though all of the pain, all of the battles, all of the strife simply dissipated away into nothing.

His ice-cold lips met mine, his fingernails embedding small red marks into my cheeks, into my neck, into my sides, and anywhere else available to him once he had lifted up my red Ibaran shirt.

Saint Dane pulled away, his near-ivory eyes piercing into me.

"Oh, how I have wanted to see you again, dearest Pendragon."

He chortled after this statement.

"You're shivering," he then mused quietly, almost as though he were actually in love with the fact of my trembling. He pressed his frigid body up closer and slipped between my legs, causing my insides to quake.

Well, I guess I was still in the awkward, stuttering phase, because I found myself pretty awkward and stuttering like a full-blown dunce.

"Shh, you do not have to tell me why. It is all written in those stunning eyes of yours," he whispered to me softly, kissing me once more.

I found myself blushing and swooning (and I never even knew before then that guys were capable of blushing and swooning) as he trailed his tender lips down my neck and collarbone, his warm breath sending excited chills up my spine and down into my stomach.

Suddenly, Courtney, Loor, or anyone else who I had ever even thought of having a crush on didn't matter as Saint Dane pushed me roughly back onto the cold stone floor, tracing and trailing his way over my chest and stomach. Honestly, and I'm embarrassed to say, I found myself squirming and moaning, "_ooh_ing" and "_aah_ing," and outright making a fool of myself as the Traveler demon worked his black magic on my unmentionables. I'll spare the details for the kids.

And when he was finished and I was shaking and red-faced (and, well, _naked_, but again, I must consider the children in this matter), he asked me in a nearly hypnotizing voice, "Will you join me, Pendragon? Again and again I have asked you, and I must know. We would work so well together, just you and I, ruling over the territories with absolutely no worries or opposition. Wouldn't we be so happy?"

Once again, to bring up the _Star Wars_ reference, it was like Darth Vader extending his hand to Luke with an "offer you can't refuse." (That's a _Godfather_ reference, by the way. I could totally fit in a few _Gone With the Wind_ ones, if I find the right situation.)

But… I was still a Traveler. We were enemies, despite how much I wished we weren't. No matter what he did or said, I couldn't turn away from the task that I had been given.

"…I'm sorry. I can't. I wish I could, but it's just impossible. We stand on two sides, and we could never meet in the middle."

And the most painful thing was that, even though I was supposed to hate him with every fiber of my being, I just couldn't. I could try it in my writing, and in the words I spoke to my fellow Travelers, but would I ever really feel it in my heart? And if all went as the others planned, Saint Dane would be destroyed, and I would be without him. This attachment… this love… was doomed from the very beginning.

If only he had never written me that stupid letter.

Then we would hate each other, and it would be the way everyone else wanted it to be.

Saint Dane remained pensive as well, and seemed more hurt than he usually was when I turned him down.

I got an idea, and though it was far-fetched, I just had to try. Slowly, I broke the silence with, "…But, couldn't you give up your quest? Couldn't you… join us?"

"No, Pendragon," he answered me impatiently and rather reproachfully, as though I were stupid. "I cannot. You know that."

I shrank away from him, and he countered with a hand quickly shooting out to grab hold of my shoulder to pull me back to him.

"I did not mean to snap at you. I… apologize."

I turned away from him, trying to hold back my tears. They were misting up, and I couldn't let him see what a total pansy I looked like.

"Please, Pendragon, do not cry. I… I will still love you, always. But we cannot run away from what we have become. You see now the problems I have caused."

I fell into his chest and sighed. My exhale was a bit shaky, causing his grip on me to tighten. It hurt, his touch, and yet I never wanted him to let go.

I found my voice, and it fell out of my mouth in a raspy whisper:

"…Then take me for this one night. One last time."

I looked up to him to see that he was smiling to me softly, and it was then that my cares seemed to float away. Shedding the second skin of his black suit, I became enfolded within him, it seemed; I became a part of him once more. Two hearts became one, and all that. I don't want to go on and on about it, but all I remember was pure love flowing through my veins.

Saint Dane loved me.

He could beat me, torture me, even kill me, and I would always believe it deep down. Telling me he hated me wouldn't make a difference, either.

I adored this demon, no matter if it was wrong or right.

I could hear his heart beating softly. My eyes were closed, and I could hear him humming softly. I didn't know Saint Dane was musical. Still, there were many things I probably didn't know about him.

Maybe I would get to know him better. Maybe, eventually, I would come to know him as the other half of me.

…Probably not.

And this thought made me sad. I wanted to love him freely. But I would have to hide it behind a mask of hate. I would always be forced to despise the one with whom I possibly wanted to spend the rest of my life.

Yeah, that's pretty deep, isn't it?

"I love you, Pendragon."

He was fiddling with my hair, and I sighed deeply. The sound rattled in my chest.

"Me, too."

He paused then and chuckled softly to himself. His hand then trailed down my cheek and settled over my mouth, passing a finger over my lips. I felt something slip past them then, and no, not something like that.

I freaked.

Did he just poison me?

"Go to sleep, Pendragon… We will meet again. I can assure you that."

…Good, he hadn't poisoned me.

…Unless he meant that metaphorically.

Then again, I doubted he would do that. It didn't seem too awfully Saint Dane-ish to go through all of this to kill me on the spot. He made me think more of the type who, like a cat, would play around with his food until it wanted to commit suicide. I wasn't quite to that point yet. I doubted I ever would, though. I'm not _that_ bad off. Though having the weight of several different universes resting on your shoulders might be counted as pretty stressful.

Oh well. The thought hadn't passed my mind yet, which I could feel slipping slightly each second.

"…When will I see you again…?"

"Soon, of course. After all, we _are_ trapped here together. I will be sure to bump into you again when you least expect it."

"…That sounds like you intend to take me by surprise and kill me."

He chuckled to himself once more and pressed his lips to mine one last time before consciousness eluded me.

--

"…Pendragon…?"

Telleo's voice was softly calling out to me, and I craned my neck upward, trying to discern her figure against the neon in the background. I moaned softly at the back of my throat to assure her that I wasn't dead.

"Oh, goodness, Pendragon!" she cried out. I could see her cover her mouth with her hands. "I am so sorry! I accidentally mixed two wrong spices. I was trying a new recipe, and I wasn't sure if you would take it well or not. I really must apologize for my failure."

I noticed there was a trail of drool on the table my head was rested on. Half my face was asleep, too. Damn, I couldn't feel my nose, either.

I managed to slurp up some of the spittle running down my lip and say, "Don't worry about it, Telleo. Really, it's fine."

Obviously, I could figure out what happened. She had made me the broth with the wrong stuff, left to go get help, and then Saint Dane swooped in and kidnapped me. Then he delivered me back before she returned. Or something. At least, that made the most sense to me. Nothing else seemed to fit right in my mind.

"Please, you should go back to your room and get some real rest—let the toxins cycle out of your body," she consoled, resting a gentle hand on my shoulder. Part of her seemed sincere, but another part… I wasn't sure. Did it seem… angry?

No, it was just my imagination.

I did as she was told and trekked back to my room. I noticed that night was drawing near, and I could hear tiny cricket-like bugs chirping in the canopy. I guess all places had tiny little insects to make music of the night. It made me really miss home.

Avoiding the council-members and praying they wouldn't assign me to some impossible job, I managed to work my way to my room without any distractions. I flopped onto my bed and tried desperately to collect the scattered fragments running rampant around my brain.

I fanned myself with my shirt (it was one of those really humid nights, it seemed) and happened to notice a small slip of paper crammed in the waistband of my shorts. Sitting up, I extracted it and scanned over it. I couldn't help but give a sad smile as I looked it over, and, standing up, walked over to my desk. There were two other slips similar to this one, and I shuffled it into place along with them.

It was then that I had to get back into my Saint Dane-hating phase, and I managed to scrawl half a letter to Mark and Courtney before I found it covered in little wet spots where my tears had fallen. I ripped it up and threw it away, deciding that I needed to sleep it off. Sleep would always help me, even though I'm pretty positive I'd gotten enough for at least four days. Oh well. I imagined I deserved it.

After all, tomorrow is another day.

…And that's my _Gone With the Wind_ reference for today.

Told you I'd fit one in.

--

_To Pendragon… With Love:_

_You said it was our last time._

_To think that would be foolish._

_There will always be other times in which I shall prove to you truly, undoubtedly, that I—dare I use this word?—worship you. Nearly every thought of you drives me wild, and each time I feel you near, even as we quarrel, being close to you contents me._

_Of course, there shall always be a gulf between us; I am to go one way, and you, the other. We are torn apart by our destinies, and are only meant for tragedy._

_But I shall always wish for you at my side… And I shall _always_ love you._

_Adoration Eternally,_

_Saint Dane_


End file.
